I made the mistake recently of saying something about, "When we go home" in front of the kids. Megan looked at me and said, "What home?"
I have tried to refer to Minnesota as simply, "back in America" to avoid this confusion. The reality is, as many times as my kids have been there, as much as they love it, it is not home to them. Really, it's not "home" to me like it was before. This is yet another aspect of being third culture people - a sense of displacement. This isn't really my home, but that isn't anymore either.
As a Christian, this doesn't bother me much. As I quote from C.S. Lewis the other day on my homeschool blog, "Our Father will refresh us with many pleasant inns on the journey, but he would not encourage us to mistake them for home." We are citizens of heaven, and if my home on this earth is less than ideal, well that's fine with me. I'll get a better one later.
In the meantime, I watch what I say and direct my kids toward their real home.
Winding Down
12 years ago
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